“Too bad I screwed it up. She’s been here a month, and I never said anything.”
Dante’s glare is punching a hole in my face. There’s a pause, and then his mouth tilts. “On the contrary… You stepped in when it mattered most. You can’t exact revenge on a body that’s already damaged.”
I know what he’s talking about right away.
“Troy Davis.” There’s another pause. “Is he dead?”
“He soon will be, but not by my hand. Carrera got to him first. If it were one of my daughters he’d drugged and assaulted, there wouldn’t be much of him left.”
The look on his face sends a shiver through my body. You don’t fuck with this man.
He gestures at the bar in the corner. “Sanders, are you going to get me a bourbon?”
“Get it yourself,” comes the easy riposte.
“The knife in the leg was a nice touch.” I watch, heart hammering, as he helps himself to my stepfather’s liquor. “I’d forgotten that one. Remind me to use it on the next Carrera we torture.”
“But not Lola.”
I say it too fast.
Too obvious, Sam.
“No, not Lola.” He shoots me a look over the rim of his glass. “I have more creative designs on her than that. Even more creative than carving my initial into her skin.”
I don’t correct his assumption. Even though that letter, that body, belongs to me, not him.
I gesture to the photos on the desk. “Tell me what you’re planning to do to her.”
The temperature in the room drops sharply.
“That sounded like an order,” Dante says idly. “Can you spell the word respect, or would you like my fist to give you a lesson?”
“Let it go, Dante,” my stepfather warns. “There’s no dick swinging in my office unless it’s mine and my wife is doing the honors.”
“Stay close to the daughter.” He finishes up his drink and pours himself another. “We arranged for her brother, Santi, to be out of town last night, but we won’t be that lucky again for a while.”
“Since when do my stepfather and godfather take such a keen fucking interest in my sex life?” I say, losing my cool.
“The moment you flashed up on Lola Carrera’s radar,” Dante clips back. “She sees you, Sam... And when a cartel princess sees, she doesn’t usually stop until she gets.” He slams his glass down, that wicked smirk catching at the corners of his mouth again. “That’s when you make things interesting. That’s when there’s no crueler torture than a bleeding heart.”
Chapter Six
One Week Later
Lola
This is a mistake.
I’m barely present, pretending to care as I go through the motions of making out with another random frat boy in the parking lot of my apartment building.
I should have never agreed to this date.
Alex-what’s-his-name’s kiss is wet and uninspiring, a pathetic substitute for the forbidden one I can’t stop craving. The touch of a man I dreamed of last night in such vivid detail, I woke up blushing from the sheer depravity of it.
Nothing like the fumbling, hurried hand attempting to unbutton my dress.
This isn’t working.
“Stop!” Shoving him away, I tumble into the passenger’s seat, wiping the remnants of his sloppy kiss away with the back of my hand.
“Come on, baby,” he urges, diving his hand into my long hair and twisting the strands around his fingers. “Don’t play hard to get.”
Fuck, that hurts.
“I’m not trying to.” Wincing, I pull away, only to get yanked across the console of his sports car. “But I also don’t fuck on the first date.”
Or at all…
“That’s not what I heard.”
I glare up at him, his smug accusation as dark as my brother’s eyes and as cold as his soul. “What the hell did you hear?”
My date leans in, his breath hot on my cheek. “Everybody’s saying you fucked Troy Davis at Colton’s party.”
Emotion clouds judgment, and I don’t think; I swing, a damn impressive right hook catching him across the chin.
“Son of a bitch!” he yells, releasing my hair to cover his bleeding lip. “What the fuck?”
Holy shit, I have no idea what the hell just happened. It’s as if the brand on my hip has infected my blood with venom. I’m drunk with power and feeding off the poison coursing through my veins.
Maybe I’m not as innocent as everyone thinks…
“I’m getting out of this car now.” I smile sweetly, the glassy confusion in his eyes fueling my sadistic enjoyment. “And if I hear a word around campus that anything happened between you and me other than a kiss goodnight, your football career will be over faster than Troy’s.” And if Troy’s current warehouse situation is any indication, his life as well. “Are we clear?”
His face blanches. “Get out of my car, you crazy bitch.”
Opening the passenger’s side door, I blow him a kiss and make my way toward my apartment. It’s well after midnight, the darkness blanketing the sky matching the one filling my apartment as I walk inside. Although I can’t see anything, my confidence is in control, leading the charge, while common sense lounges somewhere three or four rungs down the ladder.
Arrogance can be your strongest asset or your weakest flaw.
My father’s words of wisdom filter through my head as I cross the threshold into the living room. Arrogance is why I don’t bother turning on the lights.
Or maybe the mouse just wants to be caught.
“You’re late.”
I stumble into the wall, letting out something between a gasp and a shriek, when the lamp beside the couch clicks on. Harsh yellow light spills across the room, illuminating the man sitting on my couch. His familiar slicked-back dark hair casts a stark contrast against the pristine white leather, giving him a sinister glow. Three buttons on his gray shirt are open at the collar, highlighting the tightly strained muscles in his neck that lead to one hell of a pissed-off scowl.
Adrenaline deflates from my chest, and I sigh in both relief and irritation. “Ay Dios mío, Santi. What the fuck?”
“Pack
